


In Cold Blood

by sxetia



Category: Chrono Cross
Genre: Gen, Murder, Trauma, combat trauma, first kill, had this idea mid-stealth mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxetia/pseuds/sxetia
Summary: Blood on his hands; further fragmenting all the different realities.
Kudos: 1





	In Cold Blood

Trembling – cold breath aching in his lungs, fingertips cold and clammy, eyes gawking at the sharp indent between two ribs and the warm creep of blood coming from within. Blood – more of it on the end of his swallow's blade, dripping at his feet, dousing his boots with spots of red that would soon turn black. All monochrome in nighttime starlight, varying shades of gray or black. Serge stares, jaw wide open, unable to move feet now made of cement. Sweat drips down his chin in tandem with the drip-drop of his weapon as he hesitantly admires his fresh kill, tiny whimpers and mewls leaving in the place of words. He keeps expecting the guard's chest to rise and fall again, but no such luck. 

Growing tension, growing impatience, Nikki's eyes on him with impatience and idle concern. Kid's grubby little mitt on his shoulder, shaking him – "Serge, mate, we ain' got th'time to spare for this bollocks, les' get a mov' on!" – but they all disconnect from his skin, move away from him, transcend him. Serge has taken a life (a real, human life just like his own), and has permanently scarred the timeline that he rests upon now.

Has Serge, too, created a fracture in the timelines? Does one reality now exist where the guard lived, with Serge trapped in the one where he died? The killer and the killed become kindred spirits, trapped between timelines and in a perpetual state of existential limbo.

"I–... I can't–... I can't stop looking, I'm sorry..."

Kid's snotty disposition falters for a moment, and she hooks a muscular arm around one of Serge's. 

"Y'get use to it," she reassures. The thought makes bile rise in Serge's throat, but he says nothing.


End file.
